


Scrappy

by three_lost_marbles



Category: Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Dark, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/three_lost_marbles/pseuds/three_lost_marbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor comes to kill Chris Bradley, but Bradley isn't making it nearly as fun as he'd hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scrappy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dark fic about rape and murder. Please don't read it if it's going to upset you.

“I always thought it would be Wade coming knocking at my door,” he said, and he was a little bit surprised at how calm he was. But then, he'd been thinking of doing it himself for quite some time now, just hadn't gotten up the nerve. Looked like Victor was going to help him out with that. Should be thanking the bastard, really.

“Well, Wade's gone,” the man said, and Chris sighed a bit, because Wade had been a good guy, as far as murderers went. Well, he was okay. He wasn't boring, at least.

Victor advanced on him, slowly, predatory, and he couldn't help but back away, primal instincts kicking in, and he chuckled darkly and sat down, picking up the glass of whiskey and taking one last swig to steel himself for what he knew would happen next.

“I'm not afraid of you Victor. I'm not afraid of death.”

But the smile that Victor gave him actually sent chills down his spine. “How do you know?” the beast mused. “You've never tried it before.”

And then those damn claws were on Chris's neck and his breath hitched, and he couldn't tell if the butterflies in his stomach were due to fear or excitement but he closed his eyes and bared his throat. Victor hummed softly and ran a single claw across his jugular, not pressing hard enough to draw blood, and Chris whimpered softly and screwed his eyes shut even harder.

Nothing happened.

Slowly he opened his eyes again. Victor was frowning at him, like he was a difficult math problem, and then suddenly that grin was back and those claws were twisting in his shirt, dragging him upright and throwing him down to the floor.

“You know, I really thought you'd put up more of a fight,” he mused, and crouched down and grabbed Chris by the scruff of the neck, claws piercing this time. “You used to be so . . . . scrappy. Scrappy little dog in a pack of wolves. What'll it take to make you fight me, hmmm?”

“Why bother? We both know I've got no chance.” He smiled a sad little smile at the monster crouching above him. “So why don't you get it over with, eh? Take those claws and rip my throat out. You want to, I can tell. Do it. DO IT!!”

He surprised even himself with the outburst, and Victor laughed. Those hands were cradling his face now, the claws retracted, one thumb brushing his lower lip, and a horrifying thought went through Chris's mind. _He wouldn't._ But Victor's hands were moving down, taking his shoulders and pressing him down onto his back, moving under his shirt, claws raking threateningly across his belly before ripping the cloth apart, leaving Chris half-naked and shivering. He wondered why Victor even bothered.

The claws raked down his chest, leaving deep gashes and causing Chris to cry out in surprise.

“You're still not fighting,” Victor growled, and snipped off Chris's left nipple.

He screamed. He couldn't help it, the pain was so sudden and overwhelming and he felt nauseous and there was blood, blood everywhere, and he tried to curl up into a ball but Victor was having none of that, holding his hands above his head and straddling his hips and _grinning_ , and then Victor was dipping his head down to Chris's chest and lapping at the wound and worrying it with his teeth, and Chris thought he was going to pass out from the pain and nausea and pure horror of it all.

Victor shifted above him, knees moving between his legs, hips pressing down against him. Chris was faintly aware of the fact that he was crying, as Victor rolled his hips, making it very clear just how much he was enjoying himself. There was blood running down his chin. Chris's blood.

“What's wrong, Bradley?” he asked with mock concern. “Did I scare you? Here, let me make you feel better.” Victor sat up and began to undo Chris's belt and Chris panicked, scrabbling crab-like backwards away from his tormentor but Victor grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back, seizing the other leg when it tried to kick him in the face, and it seemed like he was in a hurry now because the claws were out again, ripping into the belt, tearing apart the jeans without even bothering with the zipper. The claws cut into his hips as Victor grabbed the top of his boxers and pulled everything down his legs and off his feet and Chris was _naked_ , well except for the scraps of ruined cloth hanging off his shoulders, and he tried to run again but there were claws sinking into his thighs, keeping him in place. And then those claws were retracting and Victor was leaning over him, covering him with his large body, and bloody thumbs were wiping away the tears from the corners of his eyes. Victor sat up, keeping one hand splayed over Chris's stomach, holding him down, while the other hand undid his fly, pulling his jeans down just enough to free himself and Chris began to hyperventilate because this was it, that thing was going inside him and as Victor hooked his legs up over his shoulders and lined himself up Chris panicked and desperately tried to push the man away because _no, no, I'm not one of your screaming village girls, you can't do me like them._

But the monster didn't seem to care, and pushed himself inside in one brutal thrust.

Chris screamed. Or at least he would have screamed but the pain was just too much to handle and what came out was a strangled cry that sounded like a wild animal dying. He felt like he was being impaled, like the blunt object inside of him was displacing his internal organs, and as Victor seized his hips and bulled himself further inside he could have sworn he heard something tear. There was definitely damage being done, because as Victor began to pound into him he felt the blood begin to trickle out from between his legs and he tried vainly to shove Victor away but the man just bared his teeth and then buried them in Chris's shoulder. Chris had the quick and pointless thought that he hoped Victor had had his tetanus shots before the monster was speeding up, growling obscenely, teeth locked in his shoulder, claws locked in his hips, cock ripping him apart with each vicious thrust, and then Victor smiled at him, almost sweetly, and his hands were on Chris's neck again, squeezing.

Chris was being rocked back with every thrust, and soon his head was against the wall and hitting it repeatedly but Victor didn't seem to notice, or care, and his air was being blocked off and there were spots dancing in the corners of his vision and Victor suddenly roared, burying himself as deep inside as possible and the last thing Chris Bradley ever saw was Victor's face, smiling and lazy as his throat was slit and the last of his consciousness bled out into the cheap carpet.


End file.
